Quotes About Storm

Mon intuition me dit que le monde change autour de nous, que les anciens royaumes vacillent sur leurs trônes, que les peuples secouent leur joug et que la république est déjà dans les coeurs, sinon au bout des fusils ! Allons-nous assister passivement à ces tempêtes, et sombrer avec ce galion pourri qu'est Schönbrunn ?

This valley I thought was dead taught me why the origin of the world is in the wind. I can not only hear this cosmic whirlwind, I can see it...I think I'm seeing the moment when the world began with a storm.

Marie se sentait bien, nue sous les draps a l'abri de l'orage, les sens exacerbes dans le noir, les yeux brillants dans les eclairs, savourant avec volupte la dimension erotique du plaisir qu'il y a de jouir de l'orage dans la chaleur d'un lit, la fenetre ouverte dans la nuit, quand le ciel se dechire et les elements se dechainent. La main et le regard, il n'est jamais question que de cela dans la vie, en amour, en art.

As the storm washed over them and they huddled there not knowing their futures until it had passed and all was still. None of them ready. Thought they were in the middle. Not the end.

The rain had abated. The sails were hoisted, and the barrels we had placed everywhere filled with that precious gift from the sky. Calm reigned during a botched dawn in which pitch black shaded off into dark grey. Isolated sunrays pierced the clouds to shed light on a terribly flat sea like a lake of tar. Far, very far away, cracked muted peals of thunder. The storm approached quickly, lightning streaking the leaden ceiling while the sea shivered and quivered under a fresh wind.

But the human soul isn't like the earth, the soul needs storm, and fire and dizziness. The body has time it moves slowly and prudently, step by step, in obedience to laws of gravity, but the soul brushes time and laws aside. It wants to push forward, regardless of the cost in pain, or intoxication, or even madness. That is the only way it has of raising itself to God.

It is nothing short of a transformed vision of reality that is able to see Christ as more real than the storm, love more real than hatred, meakness more real than pride, long-suffering more real than annoyance, holiness more real than sin. - Discipline

The evening was cold and tempestuous, the rain poured in torrents, and the distant thunders rolled with tremendous noise round the adjacent mountains, whilst the pale lightning added horrors to the scene.

It is early morning; outside, the sky is dark and the trees move dramatically in the wind. Soon a storm will come. I want to live to see it. This is the way of nature: to persuade us around one more bend, to beckon us to behold one more vista.

Currents of humid wind swept down the mountainside. The air across the beach snapped and shimmied, like a bedsheet shaken out - as though the beach itself were shaking off the violence that had just been visited upon it. Then a humid calm would prevail, for a few hours or a few days, until another storm rolled in.

YOU'RE HAVING A DELIGHTFUL PICNIC, THEN SUDDENLY THERE'S A TORNADO. THE BAROMETRIC PRESSURE DROPS. THE SKY GOES BLACK. THE BIRDS GO SILENT. THIS THING IS COMING STRAIGHT FOR YOU

In times of storm and tempest, of indecision and desolation, a book already known and loved makes better reading than something new and untried ... nothing is so warming and companionable.

The woman who'd shot him had eyes the color of the sky above the moors just after a storm: blue-gray sky after black clouds. That particular shade of blue had been one of the few things his mother had found beautiful in England. Raphael agreed. Despite the fear that shone in them, Lady Jordan's blue-gray eyes were beautiful.

Thunder in the Sky Twelfth

That's what it's like in my head all the time, constant snow, constant weather patterns of all sorts - blizzards, cyclones.

They are often of hurricane intensity and with gust velocities sometimes attaining to 150 to 200 miles per hour.

No choice remained but to hoist sail and try to claw their way offshore into the teeth of this fiendish gale.

The weather continued to deteriorate, which seemed hardly possible.

[N]ow and then an ominous black cloud had blotted-out the sun from our sight, and poured down a deluge till it had spent itself, and then had left the sky glaringly bright and blue...

No doubt the phenomena of cloud-formation are designed primarily to water the earth; to gather together the moisture from the salt sea, and form dark, unwholesome fens; to purify them by the mysterious alchemy of the sky; to carry them onward by sweeping storm or by gentle zephyr, and let them descend gently in the mist, or steadily in the rain, which will waken sleeping seeds, and revive drooping vegetation.

I rest all night in the eye of a hurricane.

Somewhere under the hurricane a sea turtle rows through silence.

At six o'clok the young King's terrible sufferings finally ended. After his eyes had closed for the last time, the tempeste raged on. Later, superstitious folk claimed that Henry himself had sent it, and had risen from his grave in anger at the subversion of his will.

OH. MY. GOSH. It was as if the gray storm clouds had parted and Macey McHenry was the sun, bringing wisdom and truth into the eternal darkness. (Or something a lot less melodramatic.)